A New Era
by Muse of the Insomniac
Summary: Sherlock's a wizard, and so is John. They're attending school with Rose Weasley and Albus Potter. The war is over, but a new darkness is rising, and his name is Moriarty... (Eh, I fail with summaries. I promise it's better than it sounds. Rated T because of language)
1. Chapter 1

**Disclamer: I do not own Sherlock and Harry Potter. I do own, however, some OCs.**

Sherlock pushed his trolley covered in a jumbled stack of suitcases and some odd-looking items including a cauldron forwards. In any other train station, this would be very unusual, but at King's Cross Station, it was considered the norm, especially during the end of summer. Many kids would swarm the station, each one almost always having a trolley stacked with suitcases, books, and extremely unusual objects one will never, ever see outside of King 's Cross, and occasionally, a few might have a cat or an owl with them.

Rolling his trolley up behind his little brother, Mycroft not-so-innocently asked, "Are you nervous, brother?"

With a smirk and a quick, "Never," Sherlock casually walked right up to the barrier (which was odd for most first years, for it was much more likely for them to charge) and simply waltzed through the barrier that really wasn't as solid as it appeared, and he was shortly followed by Mycroft.

The brothers now stood at a place that for one ment new beginnings, while for the other, it ment new opportunities. They stood in none other than platform nine and three-quarters. Sherlock, once again unlike the majority of first years, looked bored by it all.

Mycroft gave some excuse involving the fact he was Head Boy for Ravenclaw, and left Sherlock to find his own place to sit. The sociopath sighed and went to the very back, and sat on the only empty booth left on the train. He just hoped no other first years were running late. Sherlock sighed again and took out one of his new textbooks; _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi._ He had already read the spellbooks from cover to cover, along with other textbooks he "borrowed" from Mycroft, but he had only gotten through half of _Herbs and Fungi._ It was actually really interesting, mostly because it gave him more ideas for experiments.

Sherlock was quite into the book when someone came into the cabin, ruining Sherlock's hopes to sit alone. But at least now, he had someone to analyze._ Grew up with a family of wizards. Has an older brother and a younger sister. Although he came from a wizard family, he knows how to look like a muggle, so maybe parents have history with muggles. He is well off, because his family is rich, probably have enough money to last several lifetimes, but are careful with spending it. First year, nervous he will disappoint family with house he gets into._

All of that had gone through Sherlock's head in the space of time it took the newcomer to walk three steps. With an awkward smile, he said, "Uh, hi. I'm Albus. The rest of the cabins are full, do you mind if I sit here?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes and said, "Yes, I do mind, but I am assuming you will sit here anyways if the rest of the cabins are full. So fine, sit."

Albums grinned and said, "Brilliant."

Albums hadn't even sat down when two more people burst in. Sherlock sighed and thought, _oh great. Now even more people are coming back here. I'm never going to finish this book._

_The girl was from a family not as rich as Albus's, but not dirt poor either. Also comes from a fully wizard family, also with some experience with muggles. She knows Albus, families most likely friends, or the met outside the train, but that was unlikely because they seemed to be close friends. The girl is also nervous about sorting, but has no older siblings, even though she wasn't an only child. Worries about sorting because of stories Albus's older brother told her, also proving families are friends._

_The guy was muggle-born, and had a younger brother. Obviously amazed by magic and has a caring family. Younger brother happy for him, and wants to keep in touch, even though he doesn't plan to considering he doesn't know how to communicate to the muggle world. His family comes from a military background, his father probably was in the army._

Instantly confirming about half of his prediction, the girl waved and said, "Hi, Albus!" She sat down next to him and held out her hand to Sherlock. She said cheekily, "Hiya! I'm Rose. Rose Weasley. Who are you? Oh, you're reading the books early, too? I think these are really interesting. My parents have always said that knowledge is important. I was planning on studying up on spells first, though, but herbs and Fungi are interesting too, I guess."

Without looking up from the book, the genius said, "Sherlock. I've already read all of the spellbooks." He made no attempt to shake Ross's hand.

Rose awkwardly pulled her hand back and the boy equally awkwardly slipped into the booth next to Sherlock. Glancing from person to person, he decided that his theories needed to be proven or denied, or else it would drive him crazy.

First, he looked directly at Albus and said, "Your family has a long history with magic. I'd say pureblood, but you have muggle a bit farther back. I'd say one parent either was a muggleborn or a half-blood. You have an older brother and a younger sister. Your older brother told you stories about the sorting, and he made you nervous, even though it's obvious that you're going to be Gryffindor. Your family has quite a lot of money, but careful how they spend it."

From Albus, he moved on to Rose. "Your family, however is not as well off, but don't accept charity, but Albus's family forces them to take some of their money, for they have too much to know what to due with it all. Like Albus, you have one parent who is either a juggler or a half-hour. Your family and Albus's family are close friends, which is why you and Albus know each other. You have a cat. You are also nervous about the sorting, because either Albus's older brother told stories about it, or your parents teased you about it, or maybe both."

Finally, Sherlock turned to the first year who had sat down next to him and said, "Muggleborn. You have a caring family, who were really proud when you got the letter. It was a big surprise to them. Your father used to be in the army, and told you stories about it. Your younger brother, Harry, misses you and wants you to keep in touch, but due to your lack of knowledge of intercomunications between Muggles and wizards, it might not happen for a while."

He looked around at all three and asked, "So? Was I wrong?"

Albus made a face and said, "Er, no, mostly. My dad grew up with muggles, but he had two wizard parents."

Rose also looked slightly confused and said, "I have a little brother..."

The other boy, the one who Sherlock still didn't know his name, looked awestruck, a much different reaction from most others, and said, "Close. Harry's short for Harriet."

Sherlock slumped in his seat and exclaimed, "_Sister! _Always something."

The boy continued to stare at Sherlock in awe as he said, "How... How did you do that?"

Sherlock narrowed his eyes and replied with a smug, "Isn't it obvious?"

Rose rolled her eyes and said, "No, it's not obvious."

Sherlock sighed and said, "Alright, fine. Albus, you seem really comfortable with magic, and the fact that you have a moving picture of you and your family confirms that both of your parents were wizards, since both have wands in the picture. Your apparel suggests differently, because your clothes are muggle, and actually would look normal around other muggles, unlike most wizards who just throw something on and end up looking way out of place. Although it would have been easy to just give you your older brother's old things, but instead you have everything new, brand new, and you have an expensive-looking owl, all of which suggests a wealthy family. As for the Gryffindor thing, it was a bit of a shot in the dark. You hold yourself like most Gryfindors, and though I have only known you for less than half an hour, everything about you shouts 'Gryffindor.'

"Rose, your things, however, is old and used; not hand-me-down, but second hand. That suggests both you do not have an older sibling and that your parents are not too wealthy. It is obvious that your family is friends with Albus's, because you instantly recognized him; also, I saw your parents talking when coming onto the train. As your families know each other, and Albus's family being fairly wealthy, Albus's parents would most likely insist on giving your parents money. Like Albus, you dress similar to a muggle, but you have several moving pictures, which shows that you are not muggleborn.

"And you. You are dressed like a muggle, like anyone who really knows one would, but your face betrays your amazement of the situation. Also, you have a comic book with immobile pictures, so it's a muggle comic book. A wizard-raised student wouldn't have one. You have a note on one of the suitcases that clearly says 'Keep in touch,' and it's signed by Harry. The way you hold yourself suggests military background, and since you are much too young to have been in the army, I'm assuming your father was in the army, and you take after him."

The currently nameless first-year stared at Sherlock and said, "That's brilliant. Just brilliant."

"That's different to the usual reaction."

"What's the usual reaction?"

"'Piss off.'"

* * *

A majority of the rest of the trip was spent in silence. At least, until they got a new visitor.

A group of other first years burst into the cabin. Sherlock put down his book, and Albus woke up. The one in the middle, obviously the leader, smirked and said, "Looks like we found the freak."

Sherlock rolled his eyes and greeted dryly, "Hello, Anderson. I guess your anger management classes haven't worked."

Anderson glared at Sherlock before addressing the rest of the first-years, "What are you doing back here with the Freak? He's a psychopath, probably a murderer."

Sherlock snorted and said, "How many times do I have to tell you? I'm not a psychopath, I'm a high functioning sociopath. And I'm not a murderer. Or is it too complicated to get through your extremely thick skull?"

Anderson growled and said, "Oh, shut up, Freak."

Rose, in a rage, stood up and pointed her wand at Anderson. Anderson just rolled his eyes and swaggered up to the booth, shoving the muggleborn student out of the way and dragged Sherlock out of the booth, holding him by the color. Rose muttered something, but the spell failed, because it just made a loud bang, and didn't do anything.

Sherlock attempted to punch Anderson, but one of his grunts pulled his hands behind his back. Anderson pulled his fist pack, and threw it forwards, and it landed with a crack on Sherlock's face. His nose was on fire, most likely broken. The other three first years where trying to get Anderson away from Sherlock, but the kid was surprisingly strong. His fist drew back, preparing for another punch...

"Stupify!"

Anderson fell to the ground, and the grunt quickly let Sherlock go. Mycroft had burst into the cabin and cursed his little brother's attacker.

Mycroft sighed and said, "It's the beginning of the year, and you've already gotten yourself in trouble." He shifted his gaze from Sherlock to Anderson, and said, "You will be getting detention for attacking a student, Anderson, and so will your friends."

Anderson stood up and glared at Sherlock. He said quietly, "Watch out, Freak. Your big brother won't always be there to save you."

And with that, Anderson stalked out of the cabin, quickly followed by his henchmen. Mycroft hardly gave Sherlock and his broken nose a second look before walking out after Anderson.

Sherlock turned to Rose and commented, with a tissue he had taken out of his pocket held to his broken nose, "Wah da an awerting spewll?"

Rose nodded, and Sherlock smirked. Rose sighed and said, "You should get that looked at when we get to school." Sherlock nodded slightly and collapsed in his seat, the other three sitting down soon after.

Albus piped up and asked, "So, have you known Anderson long?" Sherlock once again nodded and said, "Yah. Andewson liwbed a few 'ouses 'own. He weally diswikes me."

The short blond student grinned and said, "Oh, really? I didn't notice."

Surprisingly, Sherlock snorted in laughter. He grinned, and finally asked, "By da way, was yowr name?"

The blond grinned and said, "Watson. John Watson."

And little did they know, but the attack by Anderson would be the start of a beautiful friendship.


	2. The Arrival

**Here's Chapter 2!**

**Thanks to all who read this or will read this, and special thanks to all who liked, followed, or commented! ^.^**

**-Ted**

* * *

The rest of the train ride was mostly filled with awkward silences, occasionally broken by Sherlock cursing or complaining about his nose blood dripping onto _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi._

The high points in the rest of the ride was a discussion about Houses, and which one they expected to be in, and John's discovery of chocolate frogs. Sherlock didn't pay attention to the House discussion, but had to hold back a bout of laughter when observing John's amazement to the common wizard candy. The only reason why he didn't laugh was because it hurt his nose.

A head boy came into their cabin to alert the first-years that they were almost at the castle and they should change into their robes. Luckily, he was Slytherin, so he wasn't Sherlock's brother. Sherlock only gave him a glance before looking back at his book.

"What happened to your nose, kid?"

It took a few seconds for Sherlock to realize that the Slytherin was talking to him. Sherlock narrowed his eyes and asked, "Isen'd id ovious? Iwt bwoke."

The Slytherin blinked and responded, "Er, alright. How about I fix that for you?"

Sherlock sighed and didn't reply, for he knew the Head Boy would do it even if he said no. Plus, it would be easier than going to the nurse after the Sorting.

The Slytherin pulled out his wand, waved it, and said clearly, "Episkey!" Sherlock's nose suddenly got very hot, and then cold. He could tell it was mended, because the constant flow of blood had stopped.

Sherlock wiped the blood off his face with his sleeve and commented briskly, "Useful. I will have to remember that spell." He then took the time to look the Head Boy over. He smirked and said, "You're hoping to become an Auror, right?"

The Slytherin blinked and said in bewilderment, "How did you...?"

Before he could finish, Albus rolled his eyes and said, "Just don't ask."

The now confuzzled student ran a hand through his hair and asked, "What's your name, kid?"

"Holmes. Sherlock Holmes."

The older student sighed and said, "Oh, Mycroft's brother, right? I'm guessing that means you'll be going to Ravenclaw. Too bad, Slytherin could use someone like you. By the way, I'm Greg Lestrade. Welcome to Hogwarts." And with that, Lestrade left.

Rose, who was just sitting awkwardly in the corner, shifted in her seat and commented, "So, let's get our robes on. Don't want to show up dressed like muggles, right?"

* * *

As the train unloaded, the quartet of first-years were seperated, fading into the conglomeration of other students. Sherlock, unluckily, was stopped by his older brother.

Mycroft grabbed Sherlock's shoulder, and he turned around. Mycroft had a fake smile when he asked, "I see you made a few friends, brother. I am very surprised."

Sherlock jerked away and snarled, "I don't have _friends!"_ He stormed off towards the boats, leaving Mycroft standing there, bewildered by his sudden rage. Sherlock darted into the boats, and quickly climbed into the back. Sherlock sighed and pondered his possible House. He figured that whatever did the Sorting would most likely put him in Ravenclaw, with his older brother. He really hated the idea; living forever in Mycroft's shadow, always being known as "Mycroft's Little Brother," no mater what he did or accomplished. Hell, if he committed murder, when people see him, their first thoughts will be, _hey, look, it's Mycroft's baby brother. Didn't he kill someone?_ Sherlock closed his eyes and put his fingertips together, with his palms slightly apart, lost in thought. Maybe he could convince them to not put him in Ravenclaw...?

He was brought out of his thoughts by someone else on the boat commenting, "Hey, my big sister said there's a giant squid in the lake." One of Sherlock's eyes opened. He hadn't noticed the boats had started moving, but apparently they were halfway to the castle. The curly haired genius glanced at the lake and sure enough, there was some odd ripples in the water that should have been impossible. _I really must come back here and study whatever that is. Seems interesting._

Sherlock's interest moved from the squid to the rest of the students. With only a glance, he could easily deduce tons of random facts about each of them by observing things anyone else would find irrelevant.

_Half-blood. Has an older brother and a little sister. Has three cats at home, but brought an owl; they're family cats. Has a fear of drowning. Parents are happily married, but older brother's girlfriend is cheating on him. Very social, already knows many first-years._

_Pure-blood. Did not bring an animal. Has experience with the school, and has four older siblings, one of which already graduated to become part of the Ministry of Magic. Despises muggle-borns, and defines people's worth by their family tree. A bully. Parents constantly fight, and are getting a divorce._

_First wizard in the family. Brought a cat, but not a new one; had it for more than a year. Parents wealthy, only child. Not shy, but currently out of element. Mediocre intelligence, good schooling but never paid attention in class. Athletic. Parents fight, but not planning on a divorce, even though father having an affair._

Sherlock continued on like this, dissecting each one of the students mentally. His mind was racing, and he was disappointed when he realized how easily he could deduce all of them. His fingers nervously tapped on his knee, and his other leg impatiently bounced.

_How long is this going to take?_

* * *

Sherlock stood nervously outside the Great Hall, glancing around at the other First-years, picking apart the ones he hadn't seen on the boats and at the same time, Sherlock looked around for John, Rose, and Albus. He couldn't find them; too many people.

Sherlock zoned out, lost in his thoughts, until the first-years were called in. He filed into the Great Hall alongside the other students. There was a short speech by the headmaster, McGonagall, but Sherlock zoned out again (because speeches were boring) until he heard the words "sorting hat."

A sorting _hat?_ Now that couldn't be right. He must have misheard.

But it was soon proved to be true when a few wizards brought out a large hat and sat it on the stool. There was complete silence until a seam in the hat ripped open like a mouth, and it started to sing;

_For years I've sung my song,_

_About how this goes along,_

_How I put you all in your proper place_

_Though I have no nose, no body, nor face._

_I can see inside your brain,_

_And save others the pain_

_Of doing this themselves_

_And then I return back to the shelves!_

_But I'll sing to you all year long,_

_If you find a hat with a better song,_

_For I'm sure you must see,_

_There is no headgear smarter than me!_

_To Gryffindor goes the strong and true,_

_The ones who will stick with you,_

_The ones brave and bold!_

_Slytherin takes the sly and cunning,_

_With ambition that's downright stunning,_

_Or at least so I'm told._

_Ravenclaws are the witty and clever,_

_For knowledge is their endeavor,_

_For wit is a valuable treasure_

_Hufflepuff takes in everyone else,_

_So no one gets left by themself,_

_Their loyalty is far beyond measure!_

_So go ahead!_

_Put me over your head,_

_Give me a look inside._

_There is nothing that you can hide,_

_From the brilliant Sorting Hat,_

_For I am a thinking cap!_

When the hat finished it's song, the entire great hall burst into applause. No wonder, since it wasn't every day that you had the chance to listen to a singing hat.

After a few more words from McGonagall, that Sherlock, of course, ignored, the names began to be called.

"Ablent, Luke!" The boy went up to the stool and the hat was lowered on his head. Almost immediately, 'Ablent, Luke' was declare Hufflepuff by a booming voice.

"Acard, William!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

"Almun, Jenny!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

Then Anderson was called up. Sherlock hadn't paid attention to what his first name, all he heard was 'Anderson' and all he heard was an angry buzz. Anderson, after a short pause, was sorted into Gryffindor.

After him, 'Berns, Riley' was sorted into Slytherin, 'Corley, Daniel' was sorted into Hufflepuff, and 'Donnovan, Sally' was sorted into Gryffindor. The names after that just sort of blurred together, with 'Edgar, Harold' sorted into Ravenclaw, 'Frank, Bernard' sorted into Hufflepuff, and 'Garn, Jennifer' was sorted into Slytherin.

"Holmes, Sherlock!"

Holmes walked up to the hat and sat in the stool like the rest of the students had before him. As the hat was lowered onto his head, Sherlock's only thought was, _Anything but Ravenclaw. Don't put me in Ravenclaw._


	3. The Sorting Continues

**Heyo! Here's the next chapter. Sorry it's short, I got stuck a few times. I hope you like it!**

**-Ted**

* * *

Sherlock felt the much-too-big hat slide down to his ears, and suddenly, a whisper pierced his eardrums, but the tone of the voice made it seem like there were not whispers from someone close reaching his brain, but instead the voice of someone shouting from a distance.

_Not Ravenclaw, eh? That's a shame. In that house, you could do great things, just like your broth.._

Sherlock quickly interrupted the hats thoughts with a quick, _no. Not Ravenclaw. Not now, not ever._

Although many would deny it ever happening, the Sorting Hat sighed._ Really? But you would fit in perfectly... With most, it is easy to tell why one might prefer not to be in a certain house, but with you... your mind has too many layers, too many thoughts... I haven't seen a mind like this since a year before the Siege of Hogwarts... So tell me, Sherlock. Why not Ravenclaw?_

Sherlock sighed mentally and thought, _Mycroft, obviously. I can hardly stand him in small doses, and being in the same house as me will surely drive me insane._

The now flustered sorting hat replied, _Alright, then. I suppose I must find another suitable house... Not Hufflepuff, definitely not Hufflepuff. What about Gryffindor? No, that would never work. I guess that leaves_

"SLYTHERIN!"

Sherlock opened his eyes (he had closed his eyes?) and glanced around the Great Hall. Unlike the other student's Sorting, there was no immediate applause from the house. The older Slytherins were in shock, probably because they all expected the young Holmes to be in Ravenclaw, with his older brother.

Sherlock blinked and stood up, took off the hat, and placed it on the stool. Recovering from being temporarily stunned, one Slytherin (Sherlock recognized the student as Lestrade, but he couldn't remember his first name) started clapping, and the rest of Slytherin followed suit.

As Sherlock walked down to the table, he glanced over to the Ravenclaw table, where Mycroft sat glaring. If looks could kill, Sherlock would have dropped dead and his body would be reduced to mere ashes. Sherlock smirked and looked back at the Slytherin table, and noticed Lestrade beckoning Sherlock to sit next to him.

Sherlock sighed and slipped next to Lestrade, because most of the other Slytherins were glaring at him suspiciously. Lestrade grinned, but Sherlock paid no attention. He calmly looked up at the front, where "Hooper, Molly" was sorted into Gryffindor. Once again, the names sort of blended together as he stared blankly at the same place many other students were staring at, but paying a bit more attention. All but Mycroft, who continued to glare angrily at Sherlock.

Sherlock began to pay attention when he heard, "Potter, Albus!" He sighed again, when, as expected, he was sorted into Gryffindor. Sherlock's hope quickly faded when both John and Rose were also sorted into Gryffindor. He continued to zone out, and stayed silent during the headmaster's speech and the school song.

The food soon magically appeared on the tables, and everyone began to dig in. That is, except for Sherlock. Lestrade looked at Sherlock with a weird look on his face, his mouth filled with food. "Awn't you gonna eat sowmting?"

Sherlock shook his head and said, "Nope. I'm not. I don't think well if I eat. Slows me down."

Lestrade swallowed his food and said, "Er... Alright then."

* * *

After the feast, the students were dismissed to their common rooms. Lestrade stood up and called out, "Come on, first years. I'll show you the entrence."

All of the Slytherin first-years, including Sherlock, swarmed along behind Lestrade and the head girl, while the older Slytherins stayed back, for they didn't need to know the location of the common room, just the password.

They walked down many staircases until they reached the lowest point in the Hogwarts dungeon. Many of the first-years looked confused, for all that was there was a large rock. Sherlock, however, quickly realized that the rock was the entrance. The rock was out of place, and seemed not really part of the wall. Also, there was cobwebs on almost every surface, but none on the rock. Plus, dust and dirt on the floor was disturbed around the rock, revealing constant movement.

Lestrade turned around and said, "Alright then. The entrance is the rock, and the password is 'Diversae Anima.'"

Just as he said the password, the rock slid out of the way, allowing the many first-years access. There was a flood of bodies as the children rushed in, eager to see their new home.

As the young Holmes walked in, he glanced around at the common room, looking unimpressed, but all in all, Sherlock was satisfied. The entire dungeon was underneath the lake, which not only allowed him to possibly spot the rumored giant squid, but the eerie green glow of the lake helped him to think, allowing his mind to wander. Plus, the dark shelves and furniture were not too distracting, but looked a bit too expensive for his tastes, and did not look very comfortable. He noticed that there were a few skulls decorating the shelves, and he made a mental note to steal one of them. Maybe having something to talk to would help his thought process...

"Remember, the password changes every fortnight, so make sure you check the notice board." Sherlock was snapped out of his thoughts by Lestrade's announcement. He sighed and collapsed onto one of the chairs. He had assumed correctly. Not very comfortable. He sighed for what felt like the fiftieth time that day and put his hands together, fingertips together, palms apart. He rested his head on his hands, closed his eyes, and began to think.

He was once again interrupted by a first-year complaining, "Oh, shit! We have double potions with _Gryffindor_ first!" Many of the Slytherins groaned, but Sherlock smirked. Maybe then he could talk with John, Rose, and Albus? He soon frowned again when he realized Anderson would be in his class as well. He then groaned in frustration along with the rest of Slytherin, because having Anderson in the room, it would lower everyone's IQ drastically.

Soon enough, everyone started climbing the stairs to the rooms, leaving only a few stragglers. But soon enough, even they went to bed, leaving Sherlock alone with his thoughts.


	4. Potions

**I KNEW IT I KNEW IT I KNEW IT I KNEW IT I KNEW IT I KNEW IT I KNEW IT I KNEW OUT I KNEW IT I KNEW IT I KNEW IT I KNEW IT I KNEW IT I KNEW IT!** **Sorry for outburst, I just watched season three episode three.)**

**Alright, so. Just a head's up, my reasoning of putting Lestrade in Slytherin, as Sherlock, it's more of an anti-stereotype thing. Just because I thought it would be awesome to put the two good guys in the typically "evil" house. I really do think Lestrade is an ambitious person. I would have put Mycroft in Slytherin, but once I thought about it, why not have him be a Ravenclaw? After thinking on how to patch up the plot holes that might create, I figured Mycroft would have chose Ravenclaw over Slytherin due to the bad rap they get. Really, who would trust someone to be in power even somewhat similar to the man who almost successfully introduced anarchy to the wizarding world?**

**Sorry about the long AN, I'll get on with the story. I own nothing, unless of course, I own it.**

**-Ted**

* * *

It was during some of the ungodly hours of the morning, just before the sun showed it's face, when Lestrade woke up. He really wasn't expecting anyone else to be up, so when he entered the common room, the Head Boy was surprised to see that Sherlock was still sitting in the same chair he was in last night, his head resting on his hands. He probably hadn't moved from that spot.

Lestrade sighed and said, "Hey, kid? Did you sleep at all?"

Sherlock looked over at Lestrade with narrow eyes. He quickly replied, "No of course not. And don't call me kid. My name's Sherlock."

Lestrade glared and said, "Really? First you didn't eat, now you aren't sleeping? That's not good, Sherlock."

Sherlock rolled his eyes in annoyance before replying, "Doesn't matter. My body is simply transport for the important stuff." The first year tapped his head, attempting to indicate to the head boy that he considered mind over matter.

With a tired sigh, Lestrade commented, "Fine. But don't say I didn't warn you when you crash from exhaustion."

Holmes retaliated dryly, "Whatever." The first year stood up and began to swagger out of the common room, but turned back and commented, "She's cheating on you." He continued into the dungeons, leaving Greg Lestrade wondering if the younger Holmes brother would get even odder in the course of the year.

* * *

Potions was first. Potions with Gryffindor.

Sherlock came by early, standing near the classroom door. His eyes darted to each of the other first years who arrived later, both the Gryffindors and the Slytherins. He quickly noticed the obvious tension between the two Houses, even with the Firsts. The taller-than-average boy was looking for the three Gryffindors he had became acquainted to. He wouldn't go as far to call them friends, but it might have been nice to talk to them again.

Before he could pick out three solitary faces in a crowd of kids, the door to the potions classroom was opened. Sherlock followed the stream of wizards as the sort of short, slightly fat potions professor was flooded. The students all took a seat, with the Gryffindors all sitting in groups and the Slytherins also grouping together. With a sigh, Sherlock slipped into the back of the room.

He only half listened as the professor announced, "I am Professor Slughorn, your potions professor. In this class, we will hardly ever use wands, so don't bother taking them out. Potions are a completely different type of magic, a most precise kind, so we will not be making anything too complicated. Now, let's just see what you all know." The professor looked around the class and asked, "What part of the Wolfsbane plant is poisonous?" Only one person raised their hand, and Sherlock saw it was Rose. He also noticed she was sitting with John and Albus.

Professor Slughorn nodded and said, "And your name is?"

Rose lowered her hand quickly and said, "Rose Weasley, sir, and the leaves are poisonous." Of course, Sherlock knew that, but really did not wish to draw attention to himself.

Slughorn nodded again and said cheerily, "Correct! Five points to Gryffindor. Now, who can tell me a use for Star Grass?" Rose's hand shot up again, and Slughorn acknowledged her with a quick, "Yes, Weasley?"

She said immediately, "Star Grass is used as a healing balm, in order to sooth or heal wounds."

With another grin, Slughorn said, "Once again, correct! Another five points to Gryffindor. Now for a hard question. What are three uses for unicorn horns?"

This time, not even Rose raised their hand. After waiting for what felt like ages, Sherlock blurted, "Oh, for God's sake. It can be used to dissolve poisons, can wake up someone from a magic-induced sleep, and is often used as a core in wands. Seriously, it's obvious."

Slughorn's eyes widened in surprise, but quickly recovered and exclaimed, "Twenty points for Slytherin!" When Sherlock glanced around, he noticed that both the Gryffindors and the Slytherins were glaring at him. He quickly reached the realization that although they must be glad he just earned them twenty points, but he _had _basically called them all idiots, so it made sense. The rest of the class went by horribly slow, considering it was more the theory of policymaking than actually making a potion, and a lot more tedious questions. Sherlock only really answered the ones no one else bothered thinking about, each time getting more points for (and more glares from) Slytherin.

* * *

Truthfully, Sherlock had not enjoyed Potions class as much as he thought he would. Really, he was hoping they would actually have the opportunity to make an actual potion, but it was entirely _review._ He had learned absolutely nothing from that extremely boring lesson, and was eager to leave.

He was quickly followed by John, who attempted to keep up with the tall Slytherin's strides. He was quickly said, "Wow! That was an interesting lesson! I mean, it would have been much cooler if we learned about spells or magical creatures or plants or something, but potions are really cool too..."

John Watson's excited rant was interrupted by Sherlock commenting, "It was boring."

John blinked, slightly stunned, when one of the Gryffindor first years approached him, a girl Sherlock recognized as Sally Donovan from the sorting, asked the blond, "Why 're you talking to Freak? Seriously, you could do better than that."

Sherlock glared, while John snapped, "Oh, mind your own business, Sally!"

Donovan just smirked and said, "That kid's a psychopath. I swear, one day, we're going to find someone's body, and Sherlock will have put it there, all because he got bored."

Before rushing off, Sherlock quipped, "How many times do I have to tell you? I'm not a psychopath, I'm a high-functioning sociopath. Do your research." A slightly defensive John followed Sherlock, not looking back.

Sherlock glanced at John and quickly commented, "Psychosomatic."

John looked confuzzled and he questioned automatically, "Pardon?"

Sherlock sighed and quickly said, "Your limp. Most people who have a limp with a physical origin tend to walk slowly in order to ease the pain, but you can speed up when you like. It's almost like you forgot how your leg works properly. Also there's the fact that before Donovan incorrectly classified me as a psychopath, you limped quite obviously, but now it's almost completely unnoticeable, as if you forgot you limped. On an unrelated note, I assume in your previous schools, you played in the popular muggle sport, I believe it's called either football or rugby, but you defended others who you felt were 'defenseless,' and you now place me under that category after the incident on the train. I must reassure you I am perfectly fine fending for myself."

Sherlock stormed off, leaving John, who had stopped in his tracks, to be swallowed up by the conglomeration of advancing students.

* * *

***hides behind computer* Sorry guys. I know this took an extremely long time to write, but School has sucked all of the inspiration out of me. I have recently lost all motivation to write until this morning, and I forced myself to write this with my Muse level on almost empty. So sorry if it sucks or if everybody seems OOC or if I basically put in a conversation I've already written. I'm just glad I managed to write this.**

**So please, try really hard to not get frustrated with my fairly random updates. I get writer's block way to easily.**

**-Ted**


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